Was three years too long to wait for another Switchblade album? Or not long enough? Sweden's Switchblade offer their fifth self-titled album in nine years. In the span of 50 minutes, Switchblade offers another huge slab (and I mean 'slab') of doom metal best reserved for you next visit to a crypt or foggy graveyard. Personally, I think I'm going to pipe album number six through some outdoor speakers on Halloween night just to scare the pants of the little children and terrify the parents.
This self-titled LP is essentially heavy foreboding creepiness good only for a funeral procession. Inherently lacking any depth or variation, album number six plods along at a horrifyingly boring pace. I imagine that attendees to a concert are fed intravenously thick doses of barbiturates prior to and during the show because that is the only way they could endure this stupefying music. Honestly, I can't see how Steen, Folkesson, and Bertilsson survived the recording sessions without falling asleep or boring themselves into redundant oblivion.
Switchblade's fifth self-titled is about nothing (almost like an episode of Seinfield); nothing but plodding uneventful distortion and gloom. There's more cheer in a graveyard than on this disc.
Switchblade's fifth self-titled is about nothing; nothing but plodding uneventful distortion and gloom. There's more cheer in a graveyard than on this disc.
It may be a stretch for some folks to remember. But there once was this glam rock band called Angel, back in the late Seventies. Big hair. Pure white satin(?) bell-bottom jump suits. A very androgynous ... [ Read More ]